


I'll Hold Your Hand

by intergalxtic



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Angst, Discussion of Children, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know how to tag this fic, Miscarriage, Pregnancy, beetlebabes dni, dont worry it starts and ends happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24405418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intergalxtic/pseuds/intergalxtic
Summary: Everything she loves gets taken away from her in one way or another, and she she naive to think it would be different this time around.Or maybe the universe is telling her that it isn't her time yet.
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Charles Deetz & Delia Deetz, Charles Deetz/Delia Deetz, Delia Deetz & Barbara Maitland, Delia Deetz & Original Character(s), Lydia Deetz & Original Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 32





	1. Hopeful

Working at a school is tiring. Not because of the constant running around, but because the students are occasionally the devil. Most of the time they are sweet, misspelling words and whatnot, but sometimes… they get on her nerves. Sometimes to make herself feel better, she tells herself it’s like dealing with a bunch of mini Beetlejuices, and that often eases some stress. But as tiring as it gets, she wouldn’t change it for the world.

Today she comes home, unusually exhausted. She quietly shuts the door, suspiciously matching the noise level in the rest of the house. Soft violin music comes from upstairs, presumably Lydia’s practising for her concert. She’s been playing more and more often recently, Delia just loves it. And as she crashes onto her bed, it sends her into a short nap.

What was supposed to be a short nap became the whole afternoon, to be shaken awake by Barbara.

“It’s dinnertime if you’re hungry,” She says softly, as Delia blinks her eyes open, the light blinding. The soft music has stopped, and replaced with loud voices coming from downstairs.

“Shit! I’m sorry,” Delia exclaims, a little lost for words. Even the thought of dinner makes her nauseous. “I think I’ll skip out today.”

“Are you sure? Okay.” Barbara leaves the room without questions, closing her door on the way out. Still sleepy, she falls straight back into a deep slumber, to wake up an hour before her alarm the next day.

She rises nonetheless, a mysterious sick feeling in her stomach.  _ It’s just from not eating since yesterday.  _ She tells herself over and over, as she sits still as she can on her favourite purple yoga mat, until she finally is tipped over the edge. She runs into the bathroom, crouched on the ground next to the toilet. She coughs quietly, yet feels a lot better immediately afterwards. 

_ That’s weird.  _

She spends the extra time after she finished getting ready by reading through a magazine. The sun has only just come up, shining an orange light through the windows, and it makes Delia fairly uneasy. 

Soon enough, Lydia comes trotting down the stairs, her short black hair pulled into a half-up half-down. Charles soon follows, tying his tie.

“There is coffee in the pot!” She says to him in passing, Charles giving her a knowing nod, brushing past her shoulder. The rest of the morning goes smoothly, Lydia leaving without much of a “good morning” and Charles giving her a kiss on his way out. Beetlejuice didn’t even plummet down the stairs to start a riot. How lovely. 

She has the day off, and she would usually spend it working on her classes or other assorted hobbies she has picked up to fill her time, or maybe spend time with Adam and Barbara. However today she has decided to do some grocery shopping. The cupboards are empty from Barbara’s constant baking this week, and they are also in desperate need of some healthy food in Delia’s opinion. So off she goes, whizzing down the road.

It’s no secret Delia loves to shop, and not just clothes. For her, there is something comforting about spending money on sometimes useful, or the occasional  _ “Why the fuck would you ever need this”  _ (as Beetlejuice and Lydia like to put it). Fortunately grocery shopping is seen as useful, so she won’t be playfully bashed by BJ when she gets home.

She’s going through the aisles slowly, taking her time, when one of the items on the shelf catches her attention. Pregnancy tests.  _ Shit.  _ Before she has time to run away, it dawns on her. The fatigue, the sickness, how she’s felt the same way each morning this week. How she is  _ late.  _

She looks around to see that no-one is around, then quickly takes three, covering it with the other groceries in the cart.  _ Oh god oh god oh god.  _

She rushes home so fast she leaves everything except for the tests in the car. She wants to take them as soon as possible. Peeing on a stick is extremely surreal for her, considering she thought that she'd lost the chance. 

She paces around the bathroom, anxiously waiting for the results.  Her heart palpitates, her hands unable to keep up with the adrenaline pumping through her veins and she wheezes her way through attempted calm breathing.  The second-longest five minutes of her life. As soon as the timer goes off, Delia grabs the tests from next to the sink, and her face falls. Positive, positive, positive. All three. 

Delia’s stomach drops. They have always been so careful! Why is this happening? 

Or maybe this is a blessing in disguise, or a sign from the universe. She won’t know until Charles comes home.

  
  


It’s not like Delia can hide it. She has quite the blabbermouth when it comes to news, as well as a naturally slim frame that will eventually give it away. Besides, pregnancy tests are pretty obvious in a bin, and that’s not the best of ways to find out.

  
  


The sun has set and it’s well into the evening, Delia has kept to herself for most of the day, brainstorming ways to break the news. That then leads into a cycle of overthinking and eventual tears, but not for long, because Lydia got home from school. 

To say she is scared of Charles’s reaction is an understatement. She is sitting in the lounge room alone and listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain, when the door clicks open, Charles walking through the door. Upon impulse, she goes straight up to him and they wrap their arms around each other in a tight embrace. 

“How was your day?” He asks, inhaling her sweet, floral scent.

“I- Well…” Delia stammers, leading him away from the door. “I need to tell you something.”

_ Better now than him finding out himself... _

“What is it? Are you okay? Did Lydia do something?” His voice gets progressively louder with each sentence, as they sink down onto the sofa. Charles grasps her hands tightly, his stomach aches with anxiety. 

“This isn’t about Lydia, or Beetlejuice for that matter.” Delia starts, choking down a massive info-dump, lowering her voice to whisper “This is even harder than I thought.”

“Delia, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m pregnant.” Delia blurts, sucking in a huge breath. She waits for his response, but he remains silent.  _ Is it hot in here, or is it me?  _ After what felt like forever, he simply says,

“Woah.”

“I’m sorry! I don’t know how this happened-”

“This is great.” He interrupts the beginning of her spiel, a huge smile breaking onto his face. Now Delia wasn’t ready for this response. She will never acknowledge the fact she was prepared for something... perhaps more negative.

“It’s… great?” She squeaks, then gets tackled into a bear hug, her back hitting the cushions. “I thought you wouldn’t have wanted another child?”

“I never thought about it until just then.” He shyly admits, still leaning on top of her, his chin resting on her chest. He looks deep into her eyes, watching as it hits her that this is a good thing.

It hits her that there is something growing inside her, even if it’s just a clump of cells. All the fear has left her mind, and now she is happy. A little unprepared, but happy. Tears fill her eyes, kissing Charles’s forehead. They will be okay.

Hopefully.


	2. Torn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the second chapter!
> 
> read tags for trigger warnings

Telling the family had gone surprisingly well. Lydia especially. Delia thought that Lydia would storm up to her dad and go “kick her out”, or at least run away to her room screaming “I don’t want a sibling!”, but she didn’t do those things. Actually, she did quite the opposite. 

She ran up to Delia and  _ hugged  _ her. Hugged! Granted, she looked awfully confused, but not completely indifferent to the idea of a sibling. 

The other day she had her first doctors appointment, and it went well. They found out she was around six weeks along, but the doctor did express concerns about Delia’s age.

“Despite new conditions making it safe to give birth, women over forty are considered high-risk.” Is what they said, and for a moment, it makes Delia worried, but she’s healthy. So she pushes any extra concerns to the back of her mind. 

They went through everything from what she can and can’t eat, to taking a blood test to check if everything is normal. She got an ultrasound, and it filled her with joy to see the blurry images on a tiny screen. She is going to be a mother! How exciting!

It’s all she’s wanted to be since she first got married, but again, she thought she lost the chance. It helps her feel better that she has Lydia as some kind of surrogate, even though she isn’t technically her daughter. It isn’t quite the same, but she is happy nonetheless.

  
  


It’s just another day, when Charles comes home from work early, yielding a bouquet of red carnations. He can hear Lydia and Beetlejuice loudly plotting a prank in the basement, and he doesn’t want to be roped into it by questioning, so he goes straight upstairs. He spies Delia, laying on the bed, her head stuck in a book.

“Delia?” He whispers just loud enough for her to hear, and she snaps her head up, a huge grin on her face when she sees the flowers. 

“Charles!” She slams the book shut, clamouring onto her knees. “You’re home early!”

“I brought these for you,” He gives her the flowers, flashing a suave smile. “I thought you might like them.”

“I love them!” Delia holds them close to her, a blush forming on her face. “You’re simply the best.”

“Only for you.” He places his work bag by the door, then sits on the bed next to her. He fiddles with the violet linen sheets as Delia happily yaps away about her day. To him, her voice is like music, perfect and soothing after a stressful day. 

“I have an idea!” Delia interrupts herself with a sudden change of thought, her eyebrows crinkling in thought. “I know it’s ages away, but you know that spare room?”

“Yes?”

“That would be the perfect room for it…” Delia swallows, collecting her thoughts. “The baby, I mean.”

“Yes!” Charles repeats, more enthusiastically. “I agree. We could get the Maitlands to help out…”

“Perhaps…” Delia trails off, snuggling closer to him. His warmth makes her drowsy, her eyes become heavy. “I love you, Charles.”

“I love you too,”

  
  
  


A week later, Delia walks into work, her head lighter than usual. She greets her co-workers, not telling them the news, just to be safe. And if she’s honest, she isn’t in the mood to be judged by her younger friends. 

The first two sessions seem to move a lot slower than usual, with such a small amount of people needing help. She is watching the clock tick by in a snail-like manner, still feeling queasy from the morning. Now that she knows she’s pregnant, the morning sickness has gotten worse, but the doctor said it should ease up over the first trimester. 

“Hey Delia!” One of her co-workers, Tiffany, calls out. Delia places her tea down on the staff room counter, assembling herself. 

“Hey!” Delia matches the peppy tone. Tiffany is the teacher Delia interacts with the most, as they are very similar in personality. Tiffany brushes a hair out of her blue eyes, smiling wide.

“So. Some of the teachers are going out to the local bar to celebrate Kate’s birthday, you wanna join?” Tiffany offers, standing awkwardly close. Her hair is short and brown, and she twirls it in her hands whenever she talks. Delia is taken aback by the sudden invitation, but what’s even more shocking is the sudden cramp in her abdomen. 

“Oh! No, thank you for the invite, though.” Delia takes a step back, the pain getting worse. She gasps, earning a strange look from Tiffany. 

“Are you okay?” She asks, scanning Delia’s body. 

“I… I’ll be back,” Delia stammers, each step getting more difficult. _What the fuck is going on._

She sits on the toilet, and all she can see is blood. The doctor said spotting was normal, but this isn’t just a little speck. The room spins, Delia thinks she may vomit. Her positive train of thought has crashed, leaving nothing but space for fear to invade.

A shadow is cast over her mind, her sense of surroundings lost. She stands in disbelief. Her stomach still hurt like hell, she stumbles out to the staff room to tell someone she is sick and going home. 

She doesn’t drive home, rather to the hospital. It’s a miracle she is able to drive, considering how hard her hands are shaking. Her memory is a blur, from when she gets to the hospital to when she’s in the room, to getting an ultrasound. All she remembers is a lump forming in her throat, and the feeling of dread for the inevitable news to be broken.

  
  


“Ms Deetz, I’m very sorry to confirm you had a miscarriage.”

  
  


Charles sits next to her as the doctor explains the next step. Her eyes are blurry with tears that are yet to be shed, squeezing his hand so hard it almost goes numb. 

She had a failed pregnancy.  _ She _ failed. Just like everything else in her life. The words her mother said about Delia become words she says about herself.

It is amazing how quickly it was taken from her as well. Just last week she was talking about rooms and money, scheduling appointments. And now she’s sitting in a hospital bed, crushed to the core. Her eyes are fuzzy after rubbing the tears away for the millionth time, the skin where her IV is burning, she just wants to go home and pretend this is all a dream. One terrible dream. 

She is so thankful when she is finally discharged. Delia doesn’t hate much, but hospitals and doctors offices are one of those things she does. This is just another bad memory to add to the reasons why.

She barely has time to process it, and as she walks through the door to the house, she can feel sympathetic eyes burning holes into her. It’s humiliating, getting excited about something, for it to be torn apart in less than a second. But what was she expecting?

_ Everything I love gets taken away from me in one way or another, and I am naive to think it would be different.  _

  
  


“Dearest?” Charles murmurs into the darkness of their room, rolling over to wrap his arms around her waist. She tenses under his touch but also turns to face him. She buries her face into his chest, letting out the sobs she’s felt coming all day. 

She doesn’t care how loud she’s being, or how damp Charles’s grey pyjama shirt gets, she just wants all the emotions out of her system. So she can cope in the only way she knows how.

Thinking positive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> I'm sorry if this feels rushed...
> 
> :))))))


	3. Normal

For someone who just had a miscarriage, Delia is supposedly coping well. 

Emphasis on the supposedly. 

She only took one day off from work, and still didn’t tell any of her co-workers. She just shoved a false smile onto her face, telling everyone she just had the flu. Lying isn’t something Delia always does, but the situation calls. She doesn’t need sympathy or unaffectionate hugs from strangers, she wants to forget about everything, and go back to normal. After all, it happened for a reason, right?

But little children running around isn’t helping. It’s making it worse. It reminds her of what she’s lost. Yet she walks in every morning with a smile on her face, ready for the day. She isn’t fooling anyone. At least in her family, anyway.

It’s crystal clear to everyone that she really isn’t okay, no matter what she says. The fake smile and glossy eyes are one thing, filling her time with endless tasks are another. She’s rearranged the lounge room no less than five times, it’s very unnerving. And they’ve tried talking to her about it, never getting far. 

There was one time where Barbara almost got her to crack. It was midnight, and everyone (except for maybe Lydia) was asleep.

“Hey Delia, how are you holding up?” She asked her, pulling the blinds shut in the lounge room. 

“I’m fine.” Delia’s voice was trembling so hard it could’ve snapped. Her eyes are glued on the fireplace, suspiciously still. “Very well, actually.”

“How are you so okay with everything? Miscarriages are very traumatic,” Barbara pointed out, trying to pull her attention away from the flames, and to herself. 

“The universe is telling me it’s not the right time.” Delia’s gaze shifted to meet Barbara’s eyes, the sadness in her eyes not matching her words. Without even blinking, she darts away from Barbara. They got a little closer.

It’s a Saturday, the normal ruckus going on. Lydia had a sleepover with her friend Adeline, and they are busy making pancakes in the kitchen, Beetlejuice floating beside them. Delia sits in the dining room, her eyes fixated on the same page it’s been on for five minutes. The words are meaningless to her anyway, because she’s listening into Lydia and Adeline’s conversation.

“I don’t usually bring this kind of thing up, but is everything okay with Delia?” Adeline says.

“Yes, she’s just going through something right now.” Lydia replies, and Delia breathes a sigh of relief when she doesn’t go into details. After another five minutes, the two girls emerge from the kitchen, a plate of pancakes in hand. 

But as they offer Delia one, she turns it down.

“Are you sure? You should eat something.” Lydia suggests, putting a single pancake on a plate and pushing it towards her. She considers sitting and waiting for Delia to eat like she did to her when it was her Mum’s death anniversary, but it feels weird to turn the tables. 

“I’m really not hungry.” That is a lie. She is starving, but her stomach is doing pirouettes. She stands to walk away like usual, but Charles’s words from the other side of the room stop her.

“Delia, you need to eat.” But his tone says something else, and Delia isn’t stupid. She knows this isn’t about food.

“What do you want from me.” She snaps back, the sadness turned to anger in a second flat. Her eyes narrow with frustration. Why can’t she just be normal?

“I want you to admit you’re not okay.” He flops his arms by his side, like he’s giving up. “You’ve been going around for two weeks like everything is normal when it’s not!”

“Charles stop.” She mumbles, unable to handle any more than that. She is afraid that if she starts yelling and screaming, she won’t stop. 

“No! This isn’t healthy. And fake smiling isn’t going to help!”

“Yes! No, I...” Delia’s mind is a smoke-filled minefield, take a wrong turn and everything could explode. Lydia and Adeline have backed away against the stairs, but not retreating upstairs. Beetlejuice and the Maitlands have joined as well, wanting to know what the noise is for.

“I know you’re a positive person, but you’re allowed to feel other things! Just let me, us, help you!” 

It is that statement that broke her barriers.

“Charles stop! Can’t you see?” She shouts, her volume far exceeding his.  _ Wrong turn.  _ And she can’t stop now. “I don’t want pity. I don’t want people looking at me with tears in their eyes telling me they’re sorry. For what?”

She spits out every word like it’s venom, and it may as well be. It stings everyone in the room. And clearly Delia isn’t done yet.

“It’s not their problem, it’s mine.  _ I  _ was the one who got my own hopes up.  _ I  _ was the one who lost the baby.” Delia bites her lip to hold in sobs, waterfalls streaming down her red cheeks. “ _ I  _ was the one who failed.”

“Delia…”

“I don’t wanna hear it. I’m going for a walk.” Delia slides on the first shoes she sees by the front door, not caring if they match or not. She slams the wooden door shut behind her, the guilt kicking in. 

She walks down many roads, not paying much attention to where she is going. She figures she’ll end up somewhere if she just keeps going. While she walks along the sidewalk, she finds her mind is also taking a wander.  _ Why the hell did I react so explosively? Am I really that angry at myself? _

And the answer is yes. She is mad and guilty. Guilty, even when it’s not her fault. Guilty, even when she knows that. And now she’s realising, that she has to forgive herself, in order to heal. It sounds so simple in words, but it may take a while. Still, her heart aches, yearning for something she was so close to having.

One moment she’s fixed on the cement of the pavement, the next she’s in a park, filled with greenery. She takes off her shoes, feeling the grass beneath her feet and sighs, the cold air contrasting with her warm breath.

She strolls down towards a lake in the centre of the park. Water always seems to have some kind of calming effect on Delia, a sound she can listen to and feel safe. Ducks come swimming up to the edge where she stands, splashing around. They’re easily the cutest thing Delia has seen and she genuinely smiles for the first time in weeks. Unexpectedly, she gets an idea.

A few metres away from the lake, she sits down. The wet grass makes her bum damp, but she’s already down. She crosses her legs in front, her arms rest on her knees. She takes in a deep breath, her back straightening with a satisfying crunch. Being hunched over for so long can unquestionably mess up someone’s body. 

She lets oxygen flow through her muscles as she breathes in and out, easing the tension she’s been holding. A sense of calm washed away all the lingering anger and frustration she didn’t previously let go of on the way here. It’s a serene sensation, feeling so normal again. 

It could have been minutes or hours, Delia doesn’t know. She quietly walks through the door, the house dead silent, lounge and dining room empty. She ventures up the stairs, listening to the loud creaks echo against the walls.

The sudden noise alerts Charles, and he jumps up from his bed, rushing out of the room, almost bumping right into Delia.

“Delia?” Charles blurts, looking her up and down. “You’re okay!”

“Yes?” Delia can’t think of what to say. 

“Oh, I was so worried about you! Where did you end up going?” He asks urgently, his hands tightly gripping Delia’s shoulders, pulling her close to him. 

“I went down to this park to clear my head. It worked.” Delia concludes her little trip easily, then goes back to add, “It’s good to feel normal again. Even if it’s temporary. I’m sorry for lashing out at you.”

“That is okay.” He cups her cheek with one hand, the other intertwining with Delia’s. 

“It’s going to be a long road.” Delia can barely breathe, overwhelmed with affection. Tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill. 

“I’ll hold your hand every step of the way,” Charles states proudly, and Delia blushes, pecking him on the lips. God, she loves that man.

A few months later, Delia has made plenty of progress. Sometimes she still finds herself wishing for a child, wishing to change the past. Recovery is long, but it’s worth it. 

She’s pulled out of her mind when she can hear muffled voices from outside the door. Lydia and Adeline are home from school rather late, Delia thinks, checking the clock across the room.  _ Four forty-five.  _

She pretends to ignore the two giggling girls as they slyly walk through the door, and straight up to Delia.

“Delia?” Lydia clears her throat. “Remember when I asked dad about a cat?”

“I was present for that, yes.” Delia cocks an eyebrow, frowning in confusion. Lydia is holding something behind her, and Adeline can barely control her fit of laughter. 

“Well, I kind of… found one…” Lydia brings around her arm, and without a doubt, it’s a cat. It’s relatively skinny and small, it’s short hair shiny and black, with white paws that look like socks. “Can we keep him?”

Delia is stunned. When Lydia said she wanted a cat she didn’t realise how badly. She also doesn’t mind.

“Of course!” Delia walks around the table and takes the cat out of Lydia’s arms. He curls up against her chest, purring softly. “What’s his name?”

“The shelter didn’t have a name, apparently the previous owners dropped it off in the morning without a word.” Adeline chimes in, shuffling her feet on the floorboards.

“So we called him Casper!” Lydia grins like an idiot, clapping her hands together.

“He’s perfect.” Delia sighs, scratching Casper’s soft ears. 

The sun has set, the sky now a deep blue, stars scattered across it. Delia spies Charles slumped on the couch watching some soap-opera. The storyline seems to be getting dramatic, so Delia sits next to him, slipping her hand onto his thigh. This prompts him to wrap his arm around her shoulder and pull her in closer. She so wrapped up in Charles embrace she doesn’t even notice Casper climbing into her lap.

And as she gets more into watching the show, Lydia coming up to her and tapping her on the shoulder makes her jump.

“It’s just me!” Lydia raises her arms in defence. She’s in her pyjamas, her hair stuck in a messy ponytail. Delia nods quickly, wanting to get back to the show, as the wife is about to murder the husband. She expects Lydia to sit as far away as possible but instead, she leans against Delia, her legs tucked behind and her head rests on her shoulder.

For a moment Delia can see a glimpse of the future. Lydia graduating high school, Adam and Barbara still living with them, Beetlejuice too. But most significantly, Charles and her, hand in hand. And it doesn’t matter whether or not they have another child, because they have each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH I FINISHED IT
> 
> I hope you enjoyed :)))
> 
> If you want more longer fics, let me know!!
> 
> Follow my tumblr if you want (same user)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!
> 
> sorry this is short but this is going to be my first multi-chapter fic!!
> 
> I'm kinda excited heheh
> 
> Anyways, you can follow my tumblr if you want (same username)


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